Fear of the Darkness
by LethargicSeal
Summary: Sam pulls the trigger on Dean in the asylums basement, but instead of shooting a blank, the bullet is all too real. Haunted by his past, Sam is given a second chance. More detailed inside. AU, Character Death Not Wincest


Fear of the Darkness

**Title: **Fear of the Darkness  
**Author: **LethargicSeal  
**Pairings: **Dean/Sam  
**Rating: **M for language, character death, and gore  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Supernatural characters

**Spoilers: **Based off of the episode "Asylum" in season one.

Summary: Sam pulls the trigger on Dean in the asylums basement, but instead of shooting a blank, the bullet is all too real. Haunted by his brother's death as well as the visions he has pulls him into a world where his brother is still alive, but the guilt he holds over Dean's death pushes them apart. What is in store for the brothers as they follow their own paths? AUish, Character Death

**A/N: **I'm having writers block on my other stories and this idea popped into my head while watching yesterdays episode. I quick threw it together and this is what I got. I have a lot of ideas floating around for this story that I'm trying to get down on paper all at once. Much is planned for this story.

* * *

**Fear of the Darkness**

"So what are you going to do, kill me?" Dean shot back, gasping for breath as the rock salt in his chest shot through him like a spear.

"I am sick of you telling me what to do." Sam swore, aiming the shotgun filled with rock salt shots at Dean's head. "We are no closer to finding dad than we were six months ago."

Dean stilled while watching the barrel close in on him. "Here let me make it easier for you." He replied, pulling out his revolver and handing it to Sam. "Come on, take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt."

"Take it!" Dean shouted, groaning as he thrust the gun towards his brother. Sam tossed the shotgun aside as he held the revolver tightly in his hand.

Sam moved closer, moving the revolver into the same position he had the shotgun in earlier. "Do you hate me that much?" Dean asked watching Sam struggle with his emotions, Dean's own voice struggling to get out his last words. "Do you think you could kill your own brother?"

The piercing ring of the revolver being shot broke through the silence followed by soft sobs. Sam broke down, feeling all the anger he had a second ago fade away as he crashed onto his older brother's still frame.

"Dean?" Sam asked not even daring to look into his brother's face. He could feel the warm liquid of Dean's blood pooling around him, soaking their clothing. "No, this can't be real."

Sam swore, throwing the revolver across the room hearing it clatter against the cold basement floor. Tears stung his eyes as he pulled his brother's rigid body closer before fading away.

* * *

_1 year later_

Sam crashed onto the old sofa while flipping his sad excuse for a TV on before taking a long swig of his beer. _'It's been a year to the day.'_ Sam thought. He remembered the day all to well; he could still feel the rage he felt at that exact moment burning deep inside him. He was so angry, so frustrated with his brother that he ended up taking his own brother's life. Still he could smell the musty basement air, Dean's warm blood against his skin, and the terror as the darkness moved in around him.

He couldn't remember how he had left the basement that day. The next thing he remembered was being back in the motel room holding his brother's bags as streams of tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt lost, angry at himself and heart broken over his brother.

Loosing himself in his memories, his anger flooded over him as he suddenly threw his beer bottle against the wall watching it shatter into pieces, watching the liquid slide down the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of his dresser. _'Did my dresser just move?' _ He thought as he stood up.

Since his brother died, he experienced his visions more often and stranger things had happened. But he still made his way closer to his dresser.

"Sam?"

He stopped in his tracks as the familiar voice echoed through his head. He looked over his shoulder feeling his reflexes kicking in. He reached around and pulled out his shotgun that was held by the back of his jeans. A shiver ran down his spine as he held the gun at an arms length away.

"Dean?" He asked. _'It couldn't be… I killed him myself.' _He turned back towards the dresser and almost fell to his knees. In front of him was his brother, just as he remembered him.

"How could you Sammy?" Dean asked, reaching his hand up towards his head, and feeling the bullet wound that had split his forehead. Sam shuddered as he watched Dean smear the blood across his face. "I'm your brother for Christ's sake."

"I'm sorry Dean," Sam whimpered as tears filled his eyes. "It wasn't my fault, it was that damn doctors!"

"That's bullshit and you know it." Dean roared, "Those where your real feelings, you can't blame what happened on anyone but yourself. Dad always knew you would be evil, I didn't want to believe him until this happened."

Sam felt his brother's words hit him right in the heart. _'I'm not evil… I can't be. I just can't.'_ Sam thought as his brother's form fluttered away. He looked up at the now empty room, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.

"I mean, you would have to be evil to kill your own fucking brother, wouldn't you?"

Sam turned to see his brother's form sitting at the table, mocking him. Dean picked up a beer before downing the entire bottle in a single gulp. "I missed beer, you know. Well liquid in general, because Hell, that place you sent me to, doesn't have any. I've been thirsty for a year while you sat up here and wallowed in your tears."

Sam watched dumbstruck as his brother taunted him. He dropped his gaze to the floor before whispering, "If I could go back and change what I did, I would."

"What was that, Sammy?" Dean jeered.

"I can change it." Sam shouted, rolling his hands into fists as he pushed himself off the ground. "I'll get you back."

"Right," Dean spoke sarcastically, "it wouldn't matter, and you would just kill me again."

"No I wouldn't." Sam shook, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightened. "I wouldn't let you die."

"Yes you would, because Dad was always right about you." Dean added, popping open a second beer. "You can't save me or yourself."

"Shut up!" Sam shouted, feeling his anger burn in him. He felt the same power that fueled his visions pouring out of him in all directions. All at once his anger exploded. He stood watching as his furniture flew in all directions away from him. Dean stood unaffected as he watched the room split apart at Sam's command.

"No need to get angry Sammy." Dean chuckled as he watched a stool fly past him and crash against the wall. "Even if you could save me, how would you? I'm already dead!" Dean threw his hands up as he watched his brother pulse with demonic energy.

Sam's anger flew out of him in waves as the room ripped itself apart and burst into flames. The flames licked up the walls as Sam stood unaffected in the center of the room. _'I will save you, Dean.' _ Sam thought as the room was consumed by fire.

The roof collapsed pinning Sam to the ground. He looked up to see his brother's form with a grin spread across his face. "You'll still fail. You can't deny the evil in you." Behind him he saw the flash of a pair of yellow eyes looking down him. _'I have to save you…'_

* * *

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asked as he flipped through their father's journal.

Sam sat on the bed, holding his phone completely dumbstruck. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean asked tearing his eyes away from the journal, "You know, I love the guy, but I swear he writes like freaking Yoda."

"You're alive?" Sam asked getting up from his position. He rushed across the room and pulled his brother into a huge hug.

"Uhm… Sammy?" Dean answered pulling himself away from his brother, "What the hell has gotten into you?"

Sam was about to say something when Dean's phone began to ring. Dean pushed past his brother and started rummaging through the pile of clothing in search of his phone. "Where the hell is my cell phone?"

A few moments later and he pulled out his cell phone, staring at it for a minute before speaking, "I don't believe it."

"What?" Sam asked as Dean sat down on the bed. Sam pulled up next to him as Dean started. "It's a text message. Its coordinates." Sam pulled the phone closer to see the two sets of numbers, 42, -89.

Dean pulled open Sam's laptop and entered the coordinates. As the results popped up, Sam read "Rockfield Illinois." His heart sank as he finally pieced everything together. Looking up at Dean, he felt his guilt sink in. He couldn't let them go to that asylum, not if he knew what had or will happen there. Even if he could stop it from happening, he knew he couldn't see his brother the same. _'His blood is on my hands, and I can never forgive myself for what I've done.'_

"Is everything all right, Sammy?" Dean asked spotting his brother's sadness.

"I think we need to talk." Sam answered. He knew his brother wouldn't understand, but he had to tell him the truth. "We can't go to Illinois."

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"Because you're going to die."


End file.
